It is only that I have lost a button. Is this really a tragedy? Well, yes. A small one. You see, I love this sweater. I wear it all the time. Perhaps you remember when I knit this sweater. It was a nostalgic experience for me, and now I am having another nostalgic experience remembering knitting this sweater. And the buttons are so absolutely perfect. Sigh.

Yesterday, which was the day after the day I lost the button, I retraced my steps. This is what I found out.

*The Man at my favorite garage (West Newton Auto, gas 8cents off on Mondays) picks up buttons. He had one he found on his steps in his pocket. But not mine.

*Sometime people loose things in the freezer bins at Trader Joe’s and it might take a few days before the lost things turn up. My button hasn’t turned up.

*The administrative assistant at one of the places I work used to be a wardrobe assistant. Really? I didn’t find my button, but she told me where I might find a match. The Button Box. Interesting. Anyone up for a ride to Wellesley?

As I was driving home it hit me that I’d vacumned the day before. I remembered a definite big whooshing suck at one point, that must have been my button. Of course the button would be there. It’s always in the last place you look, right? Everything is in the last place you look. I eagerly slit the dusty bag open to find: dust, hair, a whole kleenex, and a fancy lego piece. Oh dear.

Well, you see it really isn’t much of a tragedy in the scheme of things. No one is hurt. No plans have been destroyed. No sleep has been lost. But it gets me. The real problem is the fact that I’d noticed the button was loose and I didn’t do anything about it. And the day before, at knitting group, my friend Carolyn described the best way to sew on a button, and that’s not the way I sewed my button on. So this was a preventable tragedy. And I didn’t prevent it. This is what gets me.